A BIG STEP

I am sucking my thumb. My mother gives me a mean look, walks over to me and pulls it out. She lightly taps my hand and silently says, ‘No no.’ Mama’s lady friends ignore us, keep talking about a war someplace and their card games. Mrs. Fried asks me what grade I am in, but I don’t answer. My mom answers for me. ‘She’s in first grade and loves school, don’t you, Loie?’ I don’t answer her either, don’t even nod a yes or no.

Charlene, one of my two playmates, adds, ‘Loie loves finger painting best. Everybody likes painting, even the boys. Mrs. Solomon, did Loie tell you the teacher taped Loie’s painting on the front blackboard this week and gave it a gold star as best in the class?’ Somehow my thumb is in my mouth again. It just goes by itself. I walk around behind Mrs. Fried hoping she won’t see what I’m doing.

Charlene follows me, takes my free hand. It feels nice. She asks our mothers if we can go to story time at the library after lunch. ‘Sure, who wants to stop at the drugstore lunch counter first? It’s on the way.’ Everybody says, ‘I do,’ except me. My thumb is busy and slobber is running down my chin. All I can do is nod ‘yes’. Mrs. Fried offers to drive. At the counter she spots three empty stools next to each other and takes them. My mom stands quietly behind a lady next to us who looks like she is leaving. The lady doesn’t like anyone on her back and tells my mom not to push her. She is having a coffee refill. Mom steps back a little.

Mrs. Fried orders two shrimp salad sandwiches on rye and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on white bread and a glass of chocolate milk for Charlene. ‘Loie, would you like a pbj like Charlene?’ I really don’t want it but if I shake my head no, I’ll have to tell her I’d rather have a fried egg sandwich on an English muffin. My dumb head nods ‘yes’ to the pbj. Just as the slow lady next to me finishes her coffee, our lunches come out. The waitress clears the one spot, takes a damp paper towel, gives it a swipe and puts my mom’s shrimp salad in front of her. I only eat half my sandwich. It is too dry and sticks in my busy mouth.

Next stop is story time. Charlene and I sit together on the floor. I count 14 kids. I show Charlene a 14 with my fingers and she takes her own count. ‘Ha, you’re wrong. There are only 13.’ I point at her chest and shake my head ‘no’. She gets it. She hadn’t counted herself so I am right!

The story today is ‘Peter Pan’ and we all clap. When Wendy flies, the teacher flies and lets us wing around the entire floor. Two boys spritz us as they try to make propeller noises. The crocodile is coming. We all pretend we are scared to death. Our teacher, Mrs. Clinton, acts for Wendy. She sings too. ‘I Don’t Want to Grow Up’. I hum in my head.

Our moms are hiding behind a tall book case. Once in a while I see my mom peeking at us, smiling. Wendy is home. Story time is over. Mrs. Fried and my mom come to get us. She can still lift me up and does. I get a huge hug and a kiss. ‘Charlene, you were having so much fun, you didn’t suck your thumb even one time. I could tell you were singing under your breath, ‘I Don’t Want to Grow Up’ weren’t you?

Guess what, Darling. You are doing it anyhow. I love you.’